Teaching Alana to Drive or 'My Fair Lady'

        Most of you don't know her, but at 5 and 1/2 she's bright as the blush on a cherry and smart as a new pair of shoes. There is nothing she cannot pick up easily which has taught me to watch what I say. Arms and legs always in motion, she is a kinetic engine, a whirlwind without quietus. With this ready facility of aptness and quickness of mind it made me wonder why she hadn't learned to ride a bicycle yet. Determining to act, I availed myself of the pretty princess bike sitting over at her Mom's house, training wheel equipped, with basket and princess purse, thinking how ultimately satisfying it would be to help her along life's road.

             Of course human nature is always surprising and small packages don't necessarily have less, in fact per pound, probably more. Beginning with qualified enthusiasm we rolled out of the garage and down the driveway, an advent of remarkable success. Spirits soared with confidence as we passed one house, then two. I should point out right here that Grandma is never more than a micron off the back of the seat and there is a greater danger of another ice age occuring than Alana actually reaching the ground if she falls.

           Of course all this leads, inevitably to a growing sense of autonomy and she grows uneasily certain of her ability and the predictable 'I can do it myself', which, of course, she can't. Well, she needs help going back up the incline to the garage, little legs too unskilled with the machine to push with the necessary force v. resistance, so Papa covertly adds force.

         Still, riding a bike requires a surprising amount of coordination. After you know how you never think about it but until you do........
          I wonder who will teach her to drive a short ten years down the road when she has a learner's permit to ram about in whatever electric thing they'll be driving then? Not me, I suppose, probably Daddy - I've done my time, taught a daughter (who insisted on driving a stick - from whatever unnecessary part of Dante's hell that comes from). I am certain of this, her Grandmother and I will be no less concerned about her driving around ten years anon, than we are about her riding unsteadily down our little side street now.

I know you understand when I say, letting go of the back of that seat is a really hard thing to do and yet, it seems, that letting go reluctantly is a thing we do all along the way. So, if all of this makes me seem like a silly old get - I stand convicted, but I turn it back and challenge you, the ones that have lived a while, seen some things - just YOU try letting go.

10,000 Walks With Bridget

Last night we had a dose of the usual, "a consummation devoutly to be wished". I signaled my ever-anxious, fur-covered, loyal friend and  fellow traveler that the time was ripe for our sashay into the desert nighttime. We headed for the door and were met by Apple Pie (the ever-faithful Abby, the cat) our partner, complicit in our nightly soiree. You may think it remarkable that the cat and dog travel together, many do, but we find it not so.
Lo, these many years there have been a fair number of cats that have joined us on our adventures, at times as many as six at once! This more a tribute to the love and trust that the dog Bridget spreads around her than anything else, we've always said, "everyone loves Bridget" and that has been true with every kind of creature.
We rounded out the front door, headed for open country, dog, dog-friend, cat (and other cats - soon to be mentioned).
I should tell you all, in fair disclosure, that I almost never put a leash to my girl dog, shocking as that is to most people these days, she is so well-behaved and gentle, it's not necessary. I leash her only for the benefit of other people, who don't understand and never will.
It rises to my mind this night that I have walked with Bridget every morning, every night and often at other times many days for over 13 years. We rescued her (who could not want her?) and they said she was 2 years old at the time. She's rolling up on 16 now and we have never missed a beat. I can do that math in my head and we're well over 10,000 walks, day and night.

The cats only walk with us after dark, but you know, Abby has gone every night for 12 years. She was a feral cat we took as a kitten, her wild mother had a litter in the upper part of our garage. The only black kitten in a litter of half a dozen gray-striped wild babies. Faithful Abby has journeyed out beneath the stars with me and the hound over 4,000 times, now that is remarkable - if you know about cats!

Our other fellow travelers almost every night are another feral cat we took as a kitten that we call Little because she is - or used to be. she still suffers from the fight or flight feral response (after 8 years) and can only be petted occasionally because of fear. She loves to walk with her best friend, Bridget, of course, and can always be found somewhere back a ways, doing cat things. The other one is another cat a domesticated orange tiger named Dexter, aka Buddy, just over a year old and looked on with loving suspicion by everyone, as an interloper, the kid.




The desert is beautiful tonight and the stars abound like madness in the Mideast. I really just wanted to talk about how glorious it is to have the fact spoken that, over and over, 10,000 times, a thing so gratifyingly simple as taking a walk with a friend can manifest itself unbroken, durable, functional, redeeming. Truly, this can't go on forever. I have known many human friends, of supposed greater life spans, who have departed, never to be seen again, since the day I first set out at night with Bridget. There are those walks now when I wonder what I'll do when my friend is walking around at night in a new place, without me. Will I still walk, remembering it? Will Apple Pie and Little and Buddy still want to keep the nightly round? I know this, there is a place in this Universe that will have a giant hole in it when my friend of all these years isn't around to nuzzle my hand and tell me it's time to get with it. Love to all, J.